


Perspective

by InterstellarRenegade



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Secret Relationship, Slight depictions of gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2020-10-27 07:50:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20756909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterstellarRenegade/pseuds/InterstellarRenegade
Summary: The battle itself was supposed to be easy. But somewhere, someone had made the wrong move. Sylvain had made the wrong move. And Felix witnessed it across the battlefield, his friend swinging from the jaws of a beast, beating at its face with his bare fists as it sunk its teeth into Sylvain’s legs.In the wake of a life-altering injury, Sylvain and Felix are forced to rethink the futures they had planned for themselves.





	1. Chapter 1

Three feet. Felix couldn’t wait for the gates of Garreg Mach to raise higher than that before he ducked underneath the heavy iron and bolted through the market, feeling Byleth’s hand slip down the length of his cloak as she tried and failed to catch him. If Felix had gotten his way, he would’ve been back at the monastery fifteen minutes earlier. He needed to make up for the time they’d lost having to finish off that gods-forsaken beast.

Garreg Mach appeared empty under the dark blanket of the nighttime sky, leaving Felix a clear path under his feet as he dashed through the main corridor. He skidded around the corner, hand on the wall, and took the stairs three at a time up to the second floor of the reception hall. Only after he passed the threshold did Felix slow his pace, trying not to slip in the trail of blood spattering the floor. Cracking his skull with a fall would only add to his stress.

A wounded cry echoed into the hall, and Felix felt an icy hand tighten around his heart. He sprinted the last few steps toward the infirmary door, but it opened before he could reach it, giving way to the most stern-looking Mercedes he’d ever seen. Felix made to go around her, but her hands - bloody - came down upon his chest with force, holding him in place as she fixed him with a glare that could rival that of the damned emperor.

The infirmary door had been left cracked, and it gave way to a gurgling groan followed by weak pleas of surrender. Sylvain was still conscious, but Felix could find little relief in that knowledge when it sounded like he was being tortured within an inch of his life. Felix tried to step forward again, but Mercedes dug her fingers into his coat and pushed him hard enough to make him stumble.

Felix looked down at her. He wanted to throw her aside, cast her to the ground like an enemy, but…

“Damn you,” Felix hissed. He couldn’t treat Mercie like that, and she _knew_. If only it had been anyone else.

“You’ll only be in the way,” Mercedes said, her voice hard and even. “If you truly want to help, go fetch us more water. Quickly.”

With little choice left to make, Felix turned tail with fists clenched and jaw set, stomping toward the stairs again. The rest of the Blue Lions had finally caught up with him, turning toward him at the end of the hall with worried faces but leisurely steps. Byleth was rolling her sleeves up at the head of the group like she intended to help in the infirmary. Dimitri followed her like the obedient dog that he was, and Felix went out of his way to make sure his shoulder crashed into Dimitri’s as they passed. Sylvain’s injury was at least half his fault, after all. Somehow. Probably.

As Felix marched toward the bathhouse, he was assaulted with images of the battle, his own brain cycling through each step he had taken in painstaking slow-motion. The battle itself was supposed to be easy - a routine clearance of thieves that had taken to a decrepit outpost just outside Garreg Mach. The Blue Lions had set out after dinner in high spirits, only to be met by four ugly beasts snacking on the remnants of whatever thieves they’d been sent to drive off.

Felix yanked a few buckets from a storage closet inside the front door of the bathhouse. It wasn’t as if four beasts were more than their army had ever handled before. They launched into battle under the command of Dimitri and Byleth as always, but somewhere, someone had made the wrong move. Sylvain had made the wrong move. And Felix witnessed it across the battlefield, his friend swinging from the jaws of a beast, beating at its face with his bare fists as it sunk its teeth into Sylvain’s legs. Felix was lucky he’d already driven his sword into the skull of the beast underneath him, because the terror he’d felt at the sight of Sylvain’s misstep rendered him immovable.

The rest of the battle had been nothing short of hectic. Mannuela and Mercedes had taken Sylvain and left the battlefield as soon as he’d been released from the beast’s hold. Felix hadn’t the chance to even see him from less than ten yards away, and once they’d finished off the last of the beasts, Byleth had practically put Felix on a leash to prevent him from running back to the monastery by himself. Sylvain’s screams were still so loud inside his head.

Felix hefted the four water-filled buckets in front of him. Perhaps after doing this task for Mercedes, she’d let Felix into the infirmary. He wanted nothing more than to see Sylvain and assess the extent of his injuries himself. For selfish reasons, he wanted nothing more than to touch Sylvain and confirm he was alright.

When Felix returned, Dimitri and his guard dog Dedue were in the hall outside the infirmary, one each leaning against the wall on either side of the open door. Free passage into the infirmary was much more enticing than antagonizing the boar prince, so Felix walked between him and Dedue with his gathered water sloshing out of the buckets. Mercedes met him before he made it two steps inside.

“Ah, perfect,” she said with a smile, taking the two bucket handles in Felix’s left hand. “Go on and help Manuela.”

Mercedes passed into the hallway, and with muted satisfaction, Felix heard her tell Dimitri and Dedue to find some mops and start cleaning the bloodied floor. After that, Felix turned his attention to the room in front of him. Manuela was dumping a bucket of blood-diluted water out the window, and Felix felt pity for the poor guard that would stumble upon that mess in the morning.

Felix stepped forward. The curtains hanging from the ceiling had been pulled between the two infirmary beds on his left, and he assumed Sylvain was in the bed next to Manuela, behind the wall of cloth. Felix tried to steel himself for whatever he may see. From Manuela’s calm demeanor, Felix assumed his partner had pulled through alright.

With a few more cautious steps, Felix passed the curtain. He set his two buckets at the foot of Sylvain’s bed before standing straight to observe him, propped up on a few pillows at the head of the bed. He had finally slipped unconscious, eyes closed but brows pulled together like he was still feeling pain from his injuries. His injuries...were far from small.

Something hard settled in Felix’s throat, and his stomach twisted not with disgust, but some form of dread. Sylvain’s leg was gone. Not all of it, but the beast had taken everything from his knee down, and nothing remained but bloody bandages squeezing the expanse of his thigh. Felix knew how dangerous those monsters were, and he’d seen exactly what that one had done to Sylvain. Still, seeing the aftermath up close, with his own eyes, Felix found himself unable to process the trauma.

“Couldn’t do anything except stitch him up,” Manuela said, leaning against the windowsill for a brief respite. “The beast bit his leg clean off - swallowed it, too, I assume. I’ve never heard a success story regarding reattaching whole limbs, but it’s a shame we couldn’t even try.”

Felix let a long silence stretch between them before crossing his arms. “What of his other leg?” he asked, surveying the bandages wrapped around Sylvain’s left foot and most of his calf.

“The beast caught a good chunk of it, but we were able to save it,” Manuela explained. She stooped to grab a wet rag from the edge of the bed and dunk it in the fresh water Felix had brought. “Mercedes is a talented young woman. I’d say Sylvain owes his left leg to her, now.”

Felix blew a breath from his nose as Manuela handed him a clean rag, directing him to help clean the superficial cuts and bruises on Sylvain’s torso. Were he awake, Sylvain would probably bend over backwards to give Mercedes thanks for saving him, but she’d have none of it.

Just as Felix and Manuela were inspecting Sylvain for any further wounds, Ingrid walked in with a bundle of clothes in her hands. They were fresh clothes for Sylvain, seeing as what he’d had on under his armor was now bloodied and torn. Felix wondered if Mercedes had given Ingrid the task of fetching his clothes just as she had told Felix to bring her buckets of water.

Ingrid seemed to be taking the sight of Sylvain’s missing leg just as terribly as Felix was. She meekly dropped the clothes on the foot of the bed and then backed off, wringing her hands together. Manuela picked up the clothes herself, and wasn’t shy about manhandling Sylvain into them. Felix eventually moved to help. Sylvain didn’t show any signs of waking.

There was nothing more they could do for Sylvain that night. Manuela shooed Felix and Ingrid out of the room - “It’s the middle of the night; go to bed!” - and neither of them spoke to each other on the way back to their rooms. Felix wondered what Sylvain would be like when he woke up.

Of course, Felix wasn’t going to be missing when Sylvain woke up. He washed up, changed into clothes to sleep in, then marched right back to the infirmary with a purpose. No one was about to stop him, save for the sight of Manuela passed out on the empty infirmary bed. Felix supposed he had to commend her dedication to her job, but her snoring was going to make it hard to get any sleep.

Felix dragged a chair from the infirmary’s table to Sylvain’s bedside, pulling the curtain around his bed mostly shut. With some semblance of privacy gained, Felix dropped himself into the chair and grabbed for Sylvain’s hand. The back of it was warm when Felix pressed it against his cheek, and that alone calmed the anxious beating of his heart. He looked up at Sylvain’s face - he seemed calmer now than he had before, and Felix hoped that he’d escaped to some place painless in his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this story! i'm not sure how long it will be yet, it just depends on where all my ideas end up falling into place. stay tuned i guess, if you're interested! i really love this pairing so i'm counting on that to fuel the rest of my writing ❀.(*´◡`*)❀.
> 
> thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Sunlight streaming through the mosaic pattern of the infirmary’s window was what finally woke Felix. He’d fallen asleep with his head pillowed on Sylvain’s arm, bent over in his chair. He found his back stiff when he tried to sit up, and was surprised he stayed asleep in the same position for so long. Sylvain looked like he hadn’t moved an inch during the night.

Felix looked to his right and was startled to see Ingrid rustling through Manuela’s desk in the corner. When she turned to face Felix, she met him with a tired smile and a strange greeting: “I didn’t realize you two were that close.”

Felix stared at her. It was embarrassing enough to be found sleeping huddled next to Sylvain, but then Ingrid had to come in spouting nonsense? “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Ingrid tilted her head like a confused animal, biting her lips. Her eyes strayed very noticeably downward, and it took much too long for Felix to realize she was staring at where his fingers were still tightly intertwined with Sylvain’s. He’d slept like that all night. Still, even Ingrid’s gaze couldn’t force him to move his hand. No, he crushed Sylvain’s hand in his own as his face burned against his own will.

Then Felix said, just to make it clear, “We’re not close at all.”

Ingrid’s eyebrows pinched together in disbelief, but she said nothing more on the subject. She looked out the window next to her. “Manuela went to get fresh bandages for Sylvain. She’ll be back any minute.”

Felix grunted in response. When Ingrid turned her back again, he leased his hold on Sylvain’s hand. He was hungry, needing more than just sleep to replenish the energy he expended in their last battle. Though, he didn’t like the idea of leaving Sylvain’s side - not until he woke, at least. Felix would wait until then to take care of himself.

When Manuela returned, she looked ready to shoo Felix and Ingrid out of her way, but perhaps figured her protests would fall upon deaf ears. Felix stood and stepped to the foot of the bed, crossing his arms as he and Ingrid watched Manuela unwrap the already-dirtied bandages around Sylvain’s right leg.

It wasn’t a pretty sight. The lack of wrappings revealed the angry, red, and swollen stump of Sylvain’s leg, marred with haphazard black stitching and all manner of disgusting bodily fluids. Ingrid covered her mouth with one hand, and Felix diverted his gaze to Sylvain’s face to note any changes. He found none, and was grateful for it this once.

There was still a clean bucket of water on the floor from the night previous, and Manuela tugged it closer to herself to once again clean Sylvain’s injury. Just watching her drag the cloth across Sylvain’s skin made Felix’s own leg tingle; he couldn’t imagine how painful that would’ve been, were Sylvain conscious.

Manuela worked quickly, but as she finished cleaning and redressing Sylvain’s right leg, her patient began to stir. She paused and looked to Sylvain’s face for a few seconds, but then resumed her job, moving on to his left leg. Felix drifted back around the right side of the bed, watching the frown on Sylvain’s face ever deepen. He was more conscious than any of them had guessed.

Sylvain’s left leg, though all there, was still gravely wounded. Mercedes’s healing magic had saved it, but not without the price of a raw patch of healing skin on Sylvain’s calf, sticky with blood. Manuela took more care to clean and rewrap the injury gently, and by the time she finished, Sylvain was back to looking peaceful.

A possible crisis averted, Manuela sighed and walked back out of the room. Ingrid, always looking for something to do, stooped low to pick up the mess of bloody bandages Manuela had left lying on the floor. When she left, she shut the door behind her, and Felix assumed - hoped - he would be alone for a while.

“A while” turned into a couple hours that Felix spent lounging in his uncomfortable wooden chair. But his solitude wasn’t interrupted by Manuela returning, nor any of his other old classmates. No, as he leaned over to rest his head once again on the edge of Sylvain’s mattress, he was stopped by a gentle hand touching his hair.

Felix snatched Sylvain’s wrist with the speed of lightning, standing quick enough that his chair almost toppled backwards, teetering back onto all for legs with a loud clatter. Sylvain grimaced and opened his mouth to likely whine about Felix’s harsh grip, and Felix had a brief battle with himself about whether he should slap Sylvain or kiss him. The latter won.

One look at Sylvain’s soft and sappy smile when they separated made Felix think he should’ve slapped him. Instead he greeted the sight with as many insults as he could manage at once. “Bastard. You know how stupid you are, throwing yourself into danger? You’re an absolute moron; I’ve never met anyone as idiotic-”

“Okay, I get it,” Sylvain insisted with a light laugh. He tried to sit up. “I don’t really remember what happened…”

As he said it, Sylvain’s face darkened, and Felix didn’t know if it was because the act of sitting up caused him pain, or if he was starting to remember the battle that lost him his leg. A sudden realization struck Felix - did Sylvain even know his leg was gone? Could he feel...its absence? Felix shifted shifted precariously on the edge of the mattress, planting his hand on the opposite side of Sylvain’s waist in an attempt to use his body as a shield from the inevitable. If he could just keep him from realizing, for a little longer…

It was too late. Sylvain’s mouth quivered and his face twisted with a strange expression. He looked nervous, but like he was trying to hide it, his eyes boring into Felix’s hip pressed against his thigh. Felix felt frozen himself, torn between protecting Sylvain from the obvious or just jumping up and pulling the sheets off his half-leg, like ripping the bandages off a healed wound.

“Felix…”

Felix hated the way Sylvain said his name in that moment. He had a pitiful smile plastered onto his face even though he looked and sounded close to tearing up. His voice was heavy with emotion but lifeless, like he’d already given up _living_ itself. Losing his leg wasn’t the end of the world - Felix almost let those words slip out of his mouth before he realized that it wasn’t what Sylvain needed to hear.

Wondering what he _should_ say, Felix let Sylvain pull at his sleeve, making him slip off the bed. He crossed his arms as Sylvain pushed away the thin sheet that was covering his legs until his right was fully revealed. He touched the bandages with a shaking hand, recoiling when pain flared under his fingertips. He patted the mattress where the rest of his leg should have been, like he was making sure it wasn’t actually there. Felix watched his adam’s apple bob consistently in his throat, and wondered if today would be the day he saw Sylvain cry for the first time in fifteen years.

Sylvain leaned back on his pillows much too gingerly. “I really fucked up this time, didn’t I?”

Not knowing if he should voice his agreement or not, Felix looked over towards the window. “What were you thinking?” he scolded.

Sylvain was staring out the window as well, his arms limp beside him. “Doesn’t matter much now, does it?”

The room grew deafeningly silent without either of them talking or moving. Felix was barely breathing, afraid he would trigger something in Sylvain that would release his barely-contained emotions. No matter how close they were, Felix was still awful in these situations. He had no idea how to comfort Sylvain if he suddenly broke down.

Quietly, Sylvain turned his head and tugged one of Felix’s hands away from him. Felix let himself be coaxed closer, until he was sitting next to Sylvain on the bed again. He had another pitiful smile turning up the corners of his mouth, and Felix kissed him just so he could stop looking at it. Sylvain’s fingers curled into the hair at the nape of Felix’s neck, pulling generous strands out of his hair tie.

If this was what Sylvain wanted in the way of comfort, Felix could provide. After all, Sylvain’s injury had put Felix through the wringer as well. Witnessing it happen, specifically, had forced Felix to contemplate what it would be like to never see Sylvain again. A fresh wave of anxiety rushed through Felix’s bloodstream just remembering it. He gave into that fear, clutched onto Sylvain’s shoulders and nosed under his jaw to bite him, bruising a mark into his skin.

“I’m sure Manuela will be quite intrigued with my new injury,” Sylvain murmured, though his hands still cradled Felix’s back and head, making no move to stop him.

“I don’t care,” Felix grumbled.

“Yes you do,” Sylvain pressed.

Felix pulled back to examine the red blossoming under Sylvain’s jawline. He pressed his thumb into it, and Sylvain licked his lips. His smile was back; less sad this time and more playful. More like himself.

The sound of the door opening behind him made Felix scramble off Sylvain’s bed and back into his chair. Sylvain let out a quiet laugh, and Felix’s face flushed as Ingrid rounded the privacy curtain, carrying two trays of food.

“Ah!” Ingrid exclaimed, the cafeteria trays nearly tipping out of her hands when Sylvain waved at her in greeting. “You’re awake!”

Sylvain nodded and pointed at the food in her hands. “Is one of those for me?”

“O-Oh, sure!” Ingrid said, though it was obvious she had brought one tray for herself and the other for Felix. She handed Felix one and set the other cautiously on Sylvain’s lap. “Are you feeling okay? I’ll go tell Manuela you’re awake, if you’re in pain.”

“It does hurt a little,” Sylvain admitted, reaching down to cover his lap with the bedsheet again. “Thanks, Ingrid.”

With an awkward smile, Ingrid rushed back out of the room. Felix propped his feet up on the edge of Sylvain’s bed. “No remorse about stealing a girl’s lunch, huh?”

“Are you kidding?” Sylvain replied, picking through the meat and vegetables on his plate. “That’s the nicest she’s been to me in years.”

Sylvain and Felix had finished eating by the time Mercedes entered the room. “Manuela’s busy right now, I hope you don’t mind me filling in.”

“‘Course not,” Sylvain assured her, and Mercedes smiled at him.

While Mercedes asked Sylvain about his pain levels and rustled through the infirmary cabinets, Felix took the time to gather his and Sylvain’s empty plates to return to the cafeteria. Ingrid was there, eating her lunch at a table with Annette. Felix was sure the news that Sylvain was conscious would spread quickly, but he hoped it wouldn’t entail a barrage of visitors to see him.

Felix made his way back upstairs with haste, and when he slipped back into the infirmary, Mercedes seemed to be finishing up her job. Felix helped her set a glass bottle back onto the top shelf of one of the cabinets on the wall.

“Just hold onto it for me for a little while, Mercedes,” Sylvain said suddenly; Felix must’ve intruded on a conversation the two were having.

“Sure,” Mercedes replied. “I’ll be in the library if you need anything else.”

Sylvain muttered a thanks to her as she left, looking red in the face. “You don’t have a fever, do you?” Felix asked, coming to press the back of his hand to Sylvain’s forehead.

“No,” Sylvain scoffed, taking Felix’s hand from his face. “I’m fine.”

No sooner than Felix had dropped back into his seat than the infirmary door swung open again, and Felix groaned internally as he pulled his hand away from Sylvain’s grasp. Annette bounded into the room, already firing off questions at Sylvain faster than he could answer. Behind her, Ashe approached more cautiously, wringing his hands worriedly.

Sylvain seemed happy for the company, at least. Annette was a force to be reckoned with when it came to cheering people up, and Ashe had his own way at comforting others, something Felix secretly wished he could learn from. He let the two newcomers chatter away with Sylvain, tuning out their conversation.

At the edge of the bed, Felix’s eyes came to rest on Sylvain’s hand, fingers dangling in open air beside the mattress, right where Felix had let go of it. As animated as he could get, Sylvain often talked with his hands, but he was keeping his right stationary, frozen in place while he used his left to gesture during his speech. Felix frowned. He knew that Sylvain was doing this purposefully, asking something of him that Felix didn’t know if he was ready to give.

It’d been a long five years. Though Sylvain and Felix had started this...relationship thing in their year at the academy, the onset of the war had left little time for anything but fighting the empire. As heir to their respective houses, responsibility weighed heavy on their shoulders. When they did happen to have time together, it was usually in the company of their fathers. Sometimes the most they could squeeze out of their passings-by was a desperate kiss in a dimly lit hallway, never lingering too long lest they get caught.

They had always been worried about getting caught. Felix more so than Sylvain, though they had agreed that bringing their relationship to light during the war would just cause chaos amongst their families when they least needed it. Grouping back up with their old classmates several months ago had eased the strain of distance on both of them, but with each passing day, Sylvain seemed to long for the ability to treat Felix like a lover in public. Sometimes he talked wistfully about the two of them running off and marrying each other, which Felix usually shut down quickly. Sometimes it seemed like the weight of responsibility weighed much heavier over Felix’s head than Sylvain’s.

Ashe and Annette were departing by the time Felix brought his attention back to the room in front of him. He sat up a bit straighter and mumbled a goodbye to the two of them. Sylvain yawned, finally moving his right hand to cover his mouth.

“Mercie said that medicine might make me tired, but I didn’t think it would happen _this_ quickly,” Sylvain commented. “I think I need to take a nap.”

He was lying. Felix could tell as soon as he looked at Sylvain’s face; his eyelashes were already wet with tears. He was just making up an excuse to be left alone for a while, to let everything out without any onlookers. Felix understood, and a mixture of guilty relief swirled through his stomach. He wished he knew what Sylvain needed to hear.

Wiping his sweaty palms down his pants, Felix stood up. “I’ll come back with dinner later,” he decided, giving Sylvain ample time to be by himself.

Before leaving, Felix leaned over and reached for Sylvain’s face to guide him into a kiss. Sylvain covered Felix’s hand with his own, and when the first of his tears his Felix’s thumb, he rubbed it away. _Should I stay?_ he wondered, breaking their kiss. Sylvain let go of him to drag his sleeve under his eyes. Did he actually want to be left alone, or was it just a test to see if Felix would stay by him?

“I’ll see you later,” Sylvain coughed, turning his face aside, feigning interest in the wall. “Bring me something good to eat, alright?”

“Okay,” Felix replied. Better to just listen to Sylvain instead of trying to read into everything he said.

Naturally, Felix started to head to the training grounds. He was already trying to think of what to say to Sylvain once he returned, as well as still being stuck up on the possible future of their relationship. A few hours spent swinging his sword around was like to put his mind at ease.

Felix earned a couple hours of respite before his mind became clouded again, and no matter how hard he swung at the training dummy in front of him, he couldn’t get his mind off what his future would be like after the war. With his father dead, Felix had already taken on many responsibilities attributed to being “Duke Fraldarius,” though his uncle was still heading the Fraldarius house in his stead. Felix had been ready to take on the role of his father for ages, but he suddenly felt lost. After the war, Felix would be expected to take a wife and father an heir, something that had never seemed as problematic and as daunting as it did now. Where was Sylvain supposed to fit into that picture? How could they continue seeing each other when they’d each be starting families of their own?

It was late into the evening before Felix realized he’d forgotten about dinner completely. He was drenched in sweat, upper body aching with strain that he should’ve noticed an hour earlier. Sighing, he set the training sword he’d been using against the wall with its counterparts. Someone had likely brought Sylvain dinner in his stead, he just hoped Sylvain didn’t think Felix was avoiding him.

After a bath, Felix found some cold leftovers from dinner in the cafeteria to scarf down before returning to the infirmary. With how sore he was from overworking himself, sleeping in that little chair next to Sylvain’s bed would kill him come morning. But he still didn’t feel right leaving Sylvain by himself overnight.

The infirmary was dark except for the soft glow of a candle emanating from behind the curtain around Sylvain’s bed. Felix noticed an oddity in the room - a wooden wheelchair sitting next to the door. He’d never seen anyone around the monastery use one of those, so he wondered where it came from and who had brought it upstairs. Had someone taken Sylvain out in it while Felix was gone?

Rounding the privacy curtain, Felix was surprised to see Sylvain awake and sitting up with a book open in his lap. “I was wondering if that was you at the door,” he greeted, looking up at Felix with a small smile. “Were you inspecting my new contraption?”

“Where’d it come from?” Felix asked.

“Dimitri brought it, said someone dug it out of some storage in the cathedral,” Sylvain said. “I had quite a few visitors while you were gone.”

“I didn’t realize the time,” Felix muttered guiltily, tapping the bedpost nearest him. “I was training.”

“It’s fine, Mercedes brought me dinner.” Sylvain gestured to the table behind Felix. “One of the knights brought you a letter from your uncle.”

Mention of his uncle brought an odd rush of anxiety through Felix, connected to his earlier thoughts, no doubt. He frowned as he turned to the table and walked over to snatch up the letter. It was likely nothing more than the usual correspondence between him and his uncle; updates on the war effort, letting Felix know how much of the funds he had inherited were going to supply the troops. Felix sat in the chair next to Sylvain and ripped open his envelope.

“Hanneman came by and took measurements of my legs,” Sylvain said, watching Felix skim over the letter in his hands. “Apparently Byleth was very insistent that he start making me a prosthetic as soon as possible, even though, in his words, he’s a ‘scholar, not a carpenter.’ Not sure how that’s going to turn out.”

“Are you even going to be able to put anything on your leg before it’s healed?” Felix questioned.

“Definitely not, according to Manuela. But with her and Mercie’s magic, she said it’ll probably only be a couple weeks before the swelling is gone.” Sylvain closed his book and set it on the bedside table to his right. “Byleth came by too, of course, and Dedue. Ingrid’s been in and out. To tell you the truth, I think she’s feeling a little bit guilty for all that happened.”

Felix looked up, folding a corner of the letter under his thumb. “Why?”

“We were next to each other, during the battle,” Sylvain explained. “She was the one that ripped me out of the beast’s mouth, I think. Maybe if she hadn’t I’d still have my leg. Or, I might’ve been swallowed whole. Who knows.”

“That’s a stupid thing for her to feel guilty about.”

Sylvain laughed. “I figured you would say something like that,” he said, calming down. He rubbed his thumbs across the edge of the bedsheet in his lap. “Ingrid’s always looked out for us, though.”

With a scoff, Felix said, “I know that. It’s just no use thinking about how to change what’s already happened.”

“Guess not,” Sylvain replied quietly.

The shift in Sylvain’s mood brought Felix’s own guilt back, even though he’d just put Ingrid down for feeling the same way. Felix didn’t know how to comfort him, hadn’t been able to protect him in battle, and couldn’t even do something so small as hold his hand in front of their friends. His hypocrisy was hitting him square in the face.

“Are you going to write a reply tonight?” Sylvain asked, and Felix followed his pointing finger to the letter in his own lap.

“No.” Felix tossed the letter on the bedside table, next to Sylvain’s book.

“Come sit with me, then,” Sylvain requested, arms out wide.

“There’s no room,” Felix protested, yawning into his hand.

“Yes there is.” Sylvain spread his legs and patted the space between them. “Come on.”

Felix rubbed between his brows; Sylvain’s voice was beginning to lift into a whine. “I don’t want to aggravate your leg.”

“You won’t!” Sylvain insisted. He patted the mattress again. “_Please_?”

After another minute of contemplation, Felix stood up with a sigh, and Sylvain’s mouth spread into a beaming grin. Felix unlaced his boots and stepped out of them as he crawled into the bed, very carefully avoiding Sylvain’s legs until he was settled comfortably between them, face down in Sylvain’s chest. Sylvain pulled the tie out of his hair, beginning to brush through it with his fingers as Felix wound his arms around Sylvain’s torso.

As he began to get drowsy, Felix thought of all the things he could say to make Sylvain feel better. Things people told him after Glenn and his father died would probably fit - “it’ll be okay” or “it’ll get better” - but Felix felt like any of those words coming out of his mouth would just sound forced and meaningless. He didn’t want to give Sylvain false promises.

Maybe it was because he was tired, but when Felix opened his mouth, he wasn’t sure why. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, lips almost flush against Sylvain’s collarbone.

At first, he didn’t know if Sylvain heard him, until his fingers stopped moving in Felix’s hair. “For what?” Sylvain asked, just as quiet.

Truthfully, Felix couldn’t put into words what he was sorry for. “Everything” was too broad, “I don’t know” was unfulfilling, so all Felix felt he could say was, “A lot of things.”

For a while, Sylvain didn’t reply. Then, his hands started moving again, pressing into Felix’s back and pulling him close. Felix balled his hands up in the back of Sylvain’s shirt and squeezed him so tight that it probably hurt, but it felt cathartic to feel the resistance of Sylvain’s body in his arms. Felix couldn’t help it when a sigh of relief escaped his nose.

“Hey.” Sylvain kissed Felix’s temple gingerly. “Look at me for a second.”

Felix lifted his head to meet Sylvain’s eyes, expecting a kiss. Sylvain did kiss him, then pulled away, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards. He whispered three words and watched Felix’s face turn crimson, his grin spreading as fast as the blush down Felix’s neck. Felix covered his face and hid himself underneath Sylvain’s chin.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to see your face,” Sylvain giggled, massaging the back of Felix’s burning neck. “And I figured you wouldn’t hit me this time, since I’m literally _missing a leg_.”

“I will,” Felix threatened, though it didn’t hold much weight with his face hidden in Sylvain’s chest.

If Sylvain had protests, he didn’t voice them. His fingers threaded back up into Felix’s hair. “I love you,” he murmured again, no mischief in his voice, only contentment. “I really do.”

Felix hugged him again, tightly, and fell asleep with his arms behind Sylvain’s back and Sylvain’s fingers in his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again! i posted these first two chapters together since the first is so short compared to this one. i took quite a long break from writing somewhere in the middle of this chapter so i hope it doesn't show ahhh
> 
> thanks for reading!! if you want to keep up with stuff i'm writing, you can follow my twitter: [@stellar_elegy](https://twitter.com/stellar_elegy)


	3. Chapter 3

Felix had gotten himself into a terrible and unfortunate situation. As tired as he had been the night previous, it hadn’t occurred to him that when someone came to check on Sylvain in the morning, he would still be curled up against Sylvain’s chest, sleeping like a baby. Sylvain’s voice had woken Felix up, but currently he was trapped in place, too mortified to reveal he was awake yet far past the point of drifting back to sleep.

Ingrid was in the room currently, and from the bits of conversation Felix had woken up to, she had come by to bring Sylvain breakfast. Felix could smell the food sitting somewhere nearby, and he was willing his stomach not to growl in hunger. Ingrid and Sylvain were conversing like they planned to do so for a while.

“This bottle?” Ingrid asked, somewhere past the foot of Sylvain’s bed.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Sylvain replied, and Ingrid’s footsteps neared the bed.

“How much did Mercedes give you yesterday?” she asked.

Sylvain shrugged, the gesture muted like he was trying not to wake Felix. “I’ll just take a swig of it.”

Ingrid’s disapproval was palatable without having to see it. Felix heard a bottle get uncorked and felt Sylvain’s arm lift to bring it to his lips briefly before handing it back to Ingrid. Ingrid stepped back across the room, and Sylvain’s hand curled affectionately into Felix’s hair.

“I didn’t realize you two were that close,” Ingrid commented, and Felix wanted so badly to jump up and catch her trying to pull information out of Sylvain with the same line that Felix had (poorly) deflected the day prior. The embarrassment of admitting he was feigning sleep to eavesdrop on his friends wasn’t something he was willing to trade off for that momentary satisfaction, though.

Of course, where Felix was a deficit of information, Sylvain jumped on the opportunity to announce their relationship. “Yeah, we are,” Sylvain told Ingrid matter-of-factly. “We’re in _love_,” he cooed, squeezing Felix in his arms.

Ingrid let out an airy laugh, but Felix couldn’t tell if it was because she felt awkward or if she didn’t believe what Sylvain was saying. “How long has it been going on?”

“Since we were in school here,” Sylvain answered.

“Wow,” Ingrid said, clearly surprised. “Have you...told anyone?”

“Ah, don’t worry Ingrid, you’re the first to know,” Sylvain said proudly. “Well, officially, at least.”

_Officially?_ Felix wondered what he meant by that. Who else had Sylvain told about them?

“I just can’t believe you’ve kept it from your families this whole time,” Ingrid said. She still sounded awed. “I mean, for over five years…”

“It’s been tough,” Sylvain admitted. “Even just telling you...I feel really relieved.”

Guilt tensed Felix’s shoulders to hear Sylvain say that. Back home, there hadn’t been a place for their relationship, but since returning to the monastery, things had been different. Sylvain obviously felt safe amongst their friends, and Felix had been shutting him up at every turn, dragging him out of conversations or kicking him under the table when he inched too close to revealing their hidden love life. Yet Felix had never realized how much strain and stress keeping their relationship secret had caused.

“Felix never wanted anyone to know,” Sylvain went on. “I was fine with that - I mean, if my father ever found out, I’d practically be in the same hole that Miklan was. But now that we’re all back here, wouldn’t it be fine to just...tell all of you? It’s not like our friends will betray us.”

“That’s true, but…” Ingrid paused for a moment. “Even if you just told our classmates, it would be at risk of getting out - back to your father. Word travels fast around here.”

A heavy sigh lifted Sylvain’s shoulders. “You’re right. But to hell with it, honestly. As soon as my father hears that I’m crippled, he’ll probably disown me anyway.”

“Not necessarily,” Ingrid mused. “You’re his only heir, and you could still father a child, so…”

Silence hung in the air, and Felix thought Ingrid had struck a nerve before Sylvain shot back, “Are you suggesting that I would’ve been better off if that beast had bitten off my dick, too?”

“Syl_vain_!” Ingrid exclaimed, sounding absolutely scandalized. Felix heard her smack the end of the mattress instead of Sylvain’s injured leg. “That’s abhorrent!”

Sylvain trembled with laughter at her reaction for a good while, until Ingrid smacked the bed again threateningly. Sylvain sighed, still with a hint of humor behind it. “Ah, I guess you’re right, though. He’ll probably summon me home as soon as he gets word of what happened.”

“You wouldn’t go?” Ingrid asked.

“I’d die before I went crawling back home,” Sylvain answered. “The war’s still going on. My place is here.”

Felix knew that would be Sylvain’s answer, but hearing him say it was still a comfort. At this point, Felix didn’t know if he could spend more than a day away from Sylvain, since they’d been with each other everyday for the better part of a year. Especially not when he was injured so drastically - Felix felt the need to be next to him as much as possible.

“If only Felix would let me marry him,” Sylvain bemoaned, clutching Felix in an exaggerated display of affection. If Felix hadn’t already been awake, _that_ would have woken him immediately. “I don’t care about being my house’s heir, I don’t care about having stupid crest babies. All I care about is right here, in this monastery. Is that selfish?”

It took a while for Ingrid to answer. “Yes, it’s selfish, but...I don’t think it’s a bad thing.”

The room was quiet for more than a few moments. Felix was nearly lulled back to sleep by the rhythmic rise and fall of Sylvain’s chest and the gentle circles his thumb was drawing inside Felix’s wrist. Ingrid eventually left with a quiet goodbye and some excuse about being on stable duty, and when Felix heard the door click shut behind her, he decided to finally raise his head.

“I knew you were awake,” Sylvain triumphed weakly, silent tears streaking down his face. So that’s why Ingrid had left.

Felix frowned and cupped one side of Sylvain’s face, watching his watery expression crack into pure sadness at the contact. He’d been ready to chew Sylvain out for what he’d said to Ingrid, but all his frustration washed away as he watched Sylvain desperately bite his lip to try to stop it from quivering. He squeezed his eyes shut as if to make them dams against the tears spilling down his cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” Felix asked softly.

Despite himself, Sylvain responded with a pained laugh. “I lost a leg,” he replied unsteadily, peeking through his wet eyelashes to look at Felix’s face. “Don’t I get a pass?”

Felix struggled again with what to say, methodically wiping away Sylvain’s tears with his thumb. “It’s not - it’s not the end of the world,” Felix grumbled half-heartedly. Why did he say that? It wasn’t very comforting at all.

Sylvain smiled, laughed again. “Yeah, you’re right.” He cleared his throat. “You’re right.”

It had...worked? Felix was surprised his words had any effect other than making Sylvain feel worse. He watched Sylvain scrub at his tear-stained face with his shirtsleeve, appearing calmer by the second. He could’ve been pretending, Felix thought. Sylvain was good at that. But when he laid his arm down and looked at Felix, his mouth quirked up in a tiny smile. His raw emotions were still written all over his face, but it was evident that he was content, if only for a moment.

The breakfast Ingrid had brought was still sitting on the bedside table. There were two plates - so Ingrid had thought of Felix as well. He pushed himself away from Sylvain’s chest and sat facing him on the bed, reaching for the two plates and handing one to Sylvain. The eggs and meat had grown cold, but Sylvain still needed to eat something. He seemed happy that they were eating together, and the redness in his eyes slowly started to fade.

Manuela came to check on Sylvain soon after they’d begun eating, and Felix had a hard time resisting the urge to jump off of the bed. “Oh, good,” Manuela said, looking at Felix. “Since you’re here, I want you to take him upstairs to the washroom in the archbishop’s quarters. A thorough bath will be better than splashing him with a bucket of water.”

“What about his bandages?” Felix asked.

“You can change them while you’re up there,” Manuela replied, waving him off like it was that simple. “Just don’t fully submerge his legs; I’m sure you can handle it. I figured it would be less _embarrassing_ if you were to assist him, rather than a haggard, old lady…”

“You’re not haggard or old, Manuela,” Sylvain protested, voice layered thick with charm.

“Thank you, dear.” Manuela looked satisfied to a hook a compliment out of him. “The rolls of bandages are in my desk, medicine is in the cabinet. Please feel free to pester Mercedes if you need anything else.”

Satisfied by not having to do any work, Manuela swept out of the room with a smile on her face. Felix scarfed down the rest of his food and set his empty plate aside as he slipped out of bed and back into his shoes. Sylvain was finishing up his own breakfast by the time Felix pushed his wheelchair next to the bed.

“How am I supposed to get you up the stairs in this thing?” Felix asked, already anticipating how heavy and awkward the process would be.

“Mercie managed it yesterday,” Sylvain informed him.

“_How_?” Felix repeated.

“With her pure, brute strength,” Sylvain said, though he was snickering as he slid to the edge of the bed. “I’ll show you when we get there.”

Gingerly, Sylvain began to shift his weight onto his left foot in order to stand up. His expression quickly morphed into a grimace, and Felix rushed to his side to help him. Sylvain practically fell onto Felix’s shoulders, but he did so with a wry smile.

“I missed being taller than you,” he cooed, tucking Felix’s head under his chin. When Felix dropped him into the wheelchair, he protested, “Hey, you might break it!”

“Then shut up.”

Sylvain grinned for a second before reaching down to touch the bandages covering his left calf. “It wouldn’t be so bad if standing on my left foot didn’t hurt like hell. Feels like I’m tearing muscle every time I put weight on it.”

Behind him, Felix gripped the chair and began to guide Sylvain outside the infirmary. “You probably are.”

“Don’t say that!” Sylvain whined, tilting his head up to make sure Felix saw him pouting. He reached forward to open the door, but changed his tune as soon as the air in the hallway hit him. “Ah, I’m cold,” he groaned, bending over to cover his bare legs against the chill.

Usually, Felix would’ve given him more trouble for whining so much, but like Sylvain had said earlier - he deserved a pass. Felix wheeled him the short distance to the third floor stairs, then let go of his chair to stand next to him. He was ready to see Sylvain’s genius plan to get up the steps.

To Felix’s surprise, Sylvain braced himself against the wall and stood. After he’d just complained about how much his left leg hurt, Felix felt considerably worried, and held his arm out to stop him. Sylvain grasped his wrist and used it as a second brace in a slow descent to the ground, sitting abruptly onto the third highest step as he lost his balance.

“And then…” Sylvain easily used his arms to lift his body up to the next step. “Like this. Just bring the wheelchair up after me.”

Felix scoffed. “That’s pathetic.” He reached down, grabbed Sylvain’s arm, and yanked him unceremoniously over his shoulder. “I can carry you this far.”

Sylvain wasn’t light - all that muscle did him good on the battlefield, but it was certainly doing a disservice to Felix’s shoulders and back. He was worried he’d overestimated his strength before cresting the top of the staircase, letting Sylvain down to the ground unsteadily. Sylvain looked thoroughly shocked, and was silent, for once.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Felix went back down to retrieve the wheelchair, and by the time he reached the third floor again, Sylvain had composed himself. He swooned as Felix shoved him back into his chair, complimenting his “hidden strength” until Felix yanked on his hair hard enough to make him yelp.

Cyril, an omnipresent guard dog of Rhea’s quarters, was none too happy to let Sylvain into her private bath. Though he let them pass, Felix could feel Cyril’s eyes boring into his back with a quiet fury. He was probably going to clean the place with acid as soon as they left.

“Oh, this is nice,” Sylvain commented once they’d passed into the bathroom. Felix kicked the door shut behind them. “I’m jealous.”

The room _was_ nice, especially compared to the communal bathhouse the former academy students shared. There was a spacious tub behind a room divider and several cabinets filled with plush towels and cloths. Felix positioned Sylvian next to the tub and went to pull some towels and a cloth out of the nearest cabinet. He set the linens on Sylvain’s lap and started to draw a bath as Sylvain wrestled his shirt off his head without bothering to unbutton it.

Once Sylvain was fully undressed, Felix half-helped, half-manhandled him into the tub. He’d kept the water shallow to avoid getting Sylvain’s legs wet, but Sylvain still seemed to enjoy the warmth of it nevertheless. He settled back into it with a sigh, and Felix threw a washcloth at him.

“I’m going to get a change of clothes for you,” he explained. “I’ll change your bandages too, when I get back.”

“Okay,” Sylvain hummed. “See you.”

Felix gave Sylvain ample time to bathe himself, not bothering to rush to the dorms to get fresh clothes. As he ascended the stairs to the second floor of the dorm rooms, he wondered if it would be more convenient to move Sylvain into one of the downstairs rooms. Felix didn’t want to carry him upstairs every night once he got discharged from the infirmary. There were plenty of open rooms on the first floor, empty and untouched since the war had begun five years ago. Though, Sylvain probably wouldn’t like the idea of disturbing the rooms of their former classmates, especially after having to kill a handful of them on the battlefield. Felix wasn’t fond of the thought either, honestly.

Like Sylvain said, it would probably be a couple weeks before the swelling in his leg went down, and Felix didn’t know how long it would take for Manuela to decide he could go back to his own room. He opened Sylvain’s dresser and pulled out some clothes - when he got cleared, they could figure out a solution to the staircase problem together. By then, his left leg might even be well enough to walk on.

Even though he stopped by the infirmary for a couple bandage rolls, Felix didn’t think his outing took more than ten minutes. However, when he got back to the archbishop’s bathroom, Sylvain was asleep, legs propped up against either side of the tub. Felix tossed his armful into the adjacent wheelchair and then shook Sylvain’s shoulder.

“Huh?” Sylvain mumbled, blinking awake. “Felix?”

“Were you that tired?” Felix asked, combing through Sylvain’s wet hair to make sure there was no soap left in it.

Sylvain seemed dazed, blinking slowly a few more times. “I didn’t sleep that much last night.”

Felix held out his hand to help pull Sylvain out of the tub. “I told you there wasn’t enough room for both of us on the bed.”

“That wasn’t why,” Sylvain insisted, lifting himself out of the water to sit on the edge of the tub. “I just wasn’t tired.”

Grabbing a towel, Felix grunted in disbelief. He resolved not to give into Sylvain’s pouting anymore, giving him a short passover with the towel to mostly dry him off. He let Sylvain wiggle into his underwear and shirt before moving him to the wheelchair and sitting on the tub himself, pulling Sylvain’s left leg into his lap and beginning to remove the bandages.

The wound only looked mildly better than the first day, in Felix’s unprofessional opinion. Sylvain handed him the unused washcloth when he reached for it, and Felix tried to mimic the care Manuela had applied when she’d first changed Sylvain’s bandages. Sylvain didn’t make any complaints, beginning to unwrap the bandages around his right leg.

Felix’s bandage application was less than neat, but he assumed it didn’t matter as long as the area was covered. Sylvain shifted forward in his chair to let Felix take care of his other leg. His brows were bunched together, but it didn’t look like an expression of pain. It looked more like contempt, glaring at the stitches crawling across the stump of his right leg. Felix finished his work quickly, then helped Sylvain shimmy into his pants.

While Sylvain puzzled over what to do with the empty material of his right pant leg, Felix stood and started wheeling him out of the room. They navigated the stairs in the same fashion as before, then continued to the infirmary. Sylvain climbed back into bed immediately, sighing as his head hit the pillows.

“Thanks, Felix,” he murmured, touching Felix’s hand before he could walk away.

Felix paused, gazed upon Sylvain’s happy smile, then leaned down to kiss him. “Get some sleep.”

“Wait.” Sylvain grabbed him before he could walk away again. “You’re not upset that I talked to Ingrid this morning, are you?”

“No,” Felix sighed. His indignance had already faded. “I don’t...I don’t mind if you want to tell people. I mean our _friends_. No one else.”

The difference in Sylvain’s expression was magical. His eyes were so wide and bright that when he smiled, Felix felt like he was looking at the sun. He snapped his head away, face hot.

“I love you,” Sylvain sang, squeezing Felix’s hand.

Felix squeezed him back, harder than he should have, as hard as his heart was trying to jump out of his chest. “Go to sleep.” He cleared his throat, trying to hide how flustered he was. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was going to contain more...substance, but in an effort to keep my promise to post today (and not end up with a 6000 word mess), i kept it short! nevertheless, hope you enjoyed the boys learning how to accomplish everyday tasks with only three legs between the two of them lol. next chapter will be more...interesting ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> also thanks for the kind feedback so far! it's been super motivating ;-; i really appreciate it!


	4. Chapter 4

Throughout the first week following Sylvain’s injury, Felix’s whole schedule was thrown to the wind in order to be at Sylvain’s beck and call - though he’d never admit to acting as his servant. Sylvain wasn’t hard to take care of, but he was restless and hated to sit in bed all day. No matter how many books Felix carted over from the library, Sylvain wasn’t satisfied unless he could go out and _do_ something. But the activities he could participate in were limited when confined to a wheelchair.

It didn’t help that Sylvain’s sleeping schedule had become so erratic. He couldn’t seem to sleep more than a few hours before waking up, and Felix finally wrestled the cause out of him - Sylvain was having nightmares. Unfortunately, there was no cure for bad dreams, so Felix did the best he could think of - when Sylvain woke up, so did he. They sat together in bed until Sylvain felt calm enough to fall back asleep.

When Sylvain was awake and well, Felix would take him around the monastery as he pleased. He still attended strategy meetings and gave his opinions on their next move, and watched Felix and the others do exercises in the training range even though he couldn’t join himself. Felix could tell how much Sylvain longed to pick up a weapon, and it didn’t take more than a few days before he was asking Ashe to tutor him in archery.

“I hope you’re not thinking of running off to the backlines,” Felix told him one day, on the way back to the infirmary. He was only teasing, in truth not knowing if Sylvain would ever step foot on the battlefield again.

“‘Course not,” Sylvain assured him, laying his hand across Felix’s as he steered the wheelchair. “I couldn’t leave you out there by yourself. I’ll just have to do things...differently.”

Felix didn’t say much in response. At least Sylvain still had his optimism, even if it was blind and foolish. Sylvain being proficient in battle in his state would be nothing short of a miracle. Perhaps Sylvain though the prosthetic Byleth had promised him was going to be that miracle. Felix didn’t think it was going to be anything more than something to help Sylvain hobble around.

Back in the infirmary, there was a letter waiting on the table, sealed in wax with the imprint of the Crest of Gautier. Sylvain reached out to grab it as Felix pushed him by with no intention of stopping. His father must’ve finally heard about Sylvain’s injury, and Felix knew Sylvain had to be nervous about what his letter would contain.

Dinner would be served soon, so Sylvain kept to the wheelchair for the time being, already peeling open his father’s envelope with a deep furrow between his brows. Felix sat down in the chair he kept next to Sylvain’s bed, facing him to study his face while he read. The envelope only contained one page, and with the sunlight shining through the paper, Felix could see that the Margrave’s writing didn’t fill much more than half of it.

Patiently, Felix waited for Sylvain to share the message. He read through the letter a few times with a blank stare, then sighed dramatically and handed the sheet of stationary to Felix. “The old man wants me back home,” he said, leaning backwards in his chair. “He’s already got three potential wives for me to pick from.”

Felix caught himself off guard with a short laugh. “In the middle of the war? That’s no time to get married and settle down,” he lectured. But what Sylvain said was true - his father made his intentions very clear in writing.

Scratching his chin, Sylvain replied, “Well, with how Dimitri’s talking, we’ll probably be at the empire’s doorstep this month. The war could be over before we know it.”

“That’s no reason to get a head start on things,” Felix said, tossing the letter onto Sylvain’s bed.

Sylvain tilted his head to the side and smiled. “Aw, are you worried I’m going to leave you for some pretty noble girl? I just told you I would stay with you, didn’t I?”

“I’m not,” Felix grunted. “I’m just saying your father ought to have more common sense.”

Sylvain practically ignored him. “You know, if you’re worried about me leaving-”

“I’m _not_.”

“-you could always put a ring on my finger.”

Glaring at Sylvain did nothing to hide Felix’s blush, a common reaction his body had whenever Sylvain spouted nonsense about marriage or any of his other stupid ideas. “Didn’t I just say that in the middle of a war was no time to get married?”

Sylvain’s eyes gleamed with a sparkle of hope, and Felix couldn’t tell if it was fake or not. “But after the war?”

“Shut _up_,” Felix insisted, kicking Sylvain in the knee. “Can’t you focus on what’s important right now, for once?”

“I dunno, maybe you could give me a little incentive?”

With a subtle grin, Sylvain tapped a finger against his lips expectantly. The action infuriated Felix, but for some reason he really wanted to kiss Sylvain. The talk about their future always swayed him more than he liked. Without restraint, Felix stood, took Sylvain’s face into his hands, and smashed their lips together tactlessly.

Like always, Sylvain took Felix’s reckless emotions in stride. While his tongue smoothed between their bruised lips, his hand tucked itself around Felix’s hip, drawing him in until he had his knee in the chair between Sylvain’s legs. He was nearly straddling Sylvain’s lap when Byleth walked in on them. Felix thought he felt the wooden arm of the chair splinter in his hand.

“Ah.” Byleth paused at the foot of the second infirmary bed. “We’re all having dinner together now. We were looking for you.”

Sometimes Byleth’s lack of expression really got on Felix’s nerves. “No problem,” Sylvain responded, appearing relaxed even when he still had two fingers stuck under the waistline of Felix’s pants. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

Byleth nodded, then left. Sylvain looked back up at Felix affectionately, caressing his cheek, then kissing him once more. Felix still found it difficult to see why Sylvain looked at him like so, but he was starting to let himself bask in it, enjoy it. It was getting too hard to hide how much he liked the attention.

It wasn’t often that all the Blue Lions had dinner together, but every once in a while Dimitri insisted on it. Sylvain’s smile was wide and genuine throughout the whole meal, and Felix knew he had to be happy to interact with his friends in a comfortingly familiar way, where the focus wasn’t on what he had lost a week ago.

Sylvain held Felix’s hand under the table the whole evening. Unlike Felix had expected, Sylvain hadn’t made any grand announcement about their togetherness. Sylvain had been letting people find out naturally, whether it be by pulling Felix in for a kiss after training or mentioning it in an appropriate instance of conversation. Felix was immensely grateful for the rare caution Sylvain was exercising - he still was wary about doing anything together in the eyesight of the knights and merchants roaming Garreg Mach. Felix didn’t trust them not to cart the information back to houses Gautier and Fraldarius.

Felix was happy to see the smile stay on Sylvain’s face all the way back to the infirmary. He chattered about this and that, repeating conversations Felix had missed during dinner. But back next to his bed, his mood abruptly soured, and Felix spotted Margrave Gautier’s letter still unfolded on the sheets.

With a little assistance, Sylvain stood up and moved the letter as he sat on the bed. He stared at it for a moment before placing it on the table next to him, sighing as he covered his face. “I need to write back, I guess.”

“You could wait until tomorrow,” Felix told him, moving the wheelchair back to the door.

Sylvain shook his head. He stood up again, taking the letter as he hopped unsteadily back to the table in the middle of the room. His left leg had gotten much better throughout the week, but Felix still let himself be used as a prop as Sylvain eased himself into a chair.

“Can you find me some paper?” Sylvain asked.

Eyes already trained on the mess of Manuela’s desk, Felix nodded. He found some unused stationery in one of her drawers, and took the ink and quill atop the desk to bring to Sylvain. Sylvain thanked him with a peck on the cheek before Felix was out of his grasp, collapsing face-first on Sylvain’s bed. He was exhausted from interacting with their loud and obnoxious dinner companions.

It took a while for Sylvain to write back to his father. Felix turned toward the window and watched the last traces of brightness fade from the night sky. Sylvain looked stressed, one hand squeezed around his forehead as he scribbled on his paper. Felix wondered what all he had decided to write.

After reading over his letter too many times, Sylvain finally seemed ready to be done with it. Felix raised up as Sylvain stood, leaving the letter unfolded on the table to dry the ink completely overnight. He still looked worried, the crease between his brows deepening as he stood and made his way to the bed.

As if Sylvain could read Felix’s mind, he said, “I didn’t tell him anything about this.” He pointed his finger between his chest and Felix’s. “I feel like that’s a conversation to have in person.”

“You’re brave enough for that?” Felix teased, opening his arms for Sylvain to fall into.

Sylvain smiled, sitting on the bed and curling up against Felix’s chest. “Stupid enough,” he mumbled, his answer muffled into Felix’s neck.

Threading Sylvain’s hair between his fingers, Felix wondered if his partner ever actually planned on a formal announcement of their relationship. He couldn’t imagine how Sylvain would even bring the subject up with his father, much less how his father would react.

Apparently, Sylvain was done brooding over his familial tension. He pushed Felix back towards the head of the bed, and Felix let his head fall onto the pillows, the cloud of concern fleeing from his mind. Between his legs, Sylvain positioned himself with a self-assured grin, climbing fully onto the bed. A respite from the stress of the week seemed to be what they both had in mind.

Felix reached up to wrap his arms over Sylvain’s shoulders, but before their lips could meet, Sylvain lost his balance with a short exclamation of surprise. He caught himself on his forearm before collapsing on Felix’s shoulder, then sat back on his one knee, rubbing his right thigh with a grimace.

“I forgot,” he pouted, which Felix supposed was better than an emotional outburst. “How am I supposed to-”

Felix didn’t let Sylvain finish, reaching up to grab the collar of his shirt. He flipped Sylvain down onto the bed in his place easily, pushing his body back until he was leaning comfortably on the stack of pillows behind him. Sylvain wore an expression of awe, even as Felix straddled his hips.

“What?” Felix asked. “Isn’t this better?”

Sylvain blinked up at him. His hands had found their way to Felix’s hips, already pulling him closer. He closed his eyes, smiled. “You sure have been treating me lately,” he murmured.

Thoughts of a retort died before they reached Felix’s lips; he was eager - anxious, even - to stop talking and start _treating_ Sylvain, if that’s what he wanted to call it. As he settled fully into Sylvain’s lap, he met him with an open mouthed kiss, raking his fingers up into fluffy locks of red hair. Sylvain matched his pace with ease, one hand snaking up under the back of Felix’s sweater and the other pulling his hair free of its tie.

It’d been weeks since they’d even entertained the thought of sex, too caught up in battle preparations every weekend, along with strategy planning, training - it all built up everyday until they collapsed, exhausted, in one of their beds in the dorms. With the events of the past week, Felix wouldn’t mark himself any less exhausted, but _pent up_ he would admit to. Desperate, even. He was wound up to burst as soon as Sylvain touched him.

And touch him, Sylvain did. He broke their kiss to push Felix’s shirt all the way over his head, attacking his chest with kisses and bite marks while Felix struggled to untangle his arms from his long sleeves. Sylvain whispered praises into the curve of Felix’s neck and shoulder, telling him how pretty he was - prettier than anyone Sylvain had ever met. They were his usual barrage of compliments, but they still served to make Felix’s skin redder and hotter underneath Sylvain’s tongue.

Felix finally threw his sweater aside and rolled his hips down, Sylvain’s head popping up subsequently with a pleasured sigh. Felix set his jittery hands to the buttons of Sylvain’s shirt, leaning down to take his turn marking Sylvain, leaving a pattern of red high up under his jawline.

Distracted as he was, Felix jolted forward as soon as Sylvain’s wet fingers slipped down the back of his pants. “Sorry,” Sylvain murmured, though he didn’t stop himself from indulging, pressing two knuckles of his middle finger inside Felix.

Impatient, Felix wanted to call him, but he was afraid all that would come out of his mouth was a pinched cry that he was desperately holding in his throat. Sylvain looked mesmerized, mouth agape as he stared down at where Felix’s cock was tenting his pants. Another finger in, and Felix was groaning. Despite how his body was reacting, two wriggling fingers were barely enough to satisfy him.

Ripping through the last three buttons on Sylvain’s shirt, Felix yanked Sylvain’s pants down - a challenge, in their current positioning. Sylvain’s cock sprung free, red and already wet with precum. Felix had barely wrapped his hand around it before he was witness to a body-wracking shudder out of his partner.

“Easy,” Sylvain gasped, throwing his head back and nearly concussing himself against the wall. Felix, fascinated, slowly circled his thumb around the head of Sylvain’s cock. “_Felix_,” he moaned, grabbing and prying Felix’s hand away from his wildly twitching cock. “I’m serious.”

“You started it,” Felix replied, perhaps a bit petulant. “Are you really going to cum that easily?”

“Yes.” Sylvain’s response was immediate, breathless. He raised his head to drag his desperate gaze up and down Felix’s half-naked body. “Just watching you...Felix, just watching you, I could…”

The proof of his words was evident, from his leaking cock to the lust clouding the warm orange of his eyes. It was as if he was stunned still, enraptured by the visage of Felix’s body. Like when he said Felix was the prettiest person in the world, the one he loved the most, he deeply, truly meant it. Felix felt like someone had just implanted the sun inside his ribcage.

Sylvain’s lips formed around the word ‘please,’ but Felix captured the plea with his own mouth, freeing himself from Sylvain’s hands for only a moment while he undressed himself fully. Sylvain still begged, his hands stuck in Felix’s hair, trying to keep him as close as possible while Felix delicately pulled Sylvain’s right leg free of his clothing. He didn’t bother with the rest, letting Sylvain’s open shirt hang off his shoulders, as he surely wouldn’t take his hands off of Felix for long enough to remove it.

Carefully, Felix lined himself up with Sylvain’s cock. He wanted to slam himself down, take Sylvain all at once and watch him come undone with one movement, but in the interest of making things last, Felix took each inch painstakingly slow.

“You feel so good,” Sylvain murmured, licking up the sweat beading on Felix’s shoulder. “Always. I missed you.”

Oddly enough, fully seated, Felix was now the one closest to losing his composure. He swallowed, arching his back into Sylvain’s waiting hands. It had been a while, and Felix was unpracticed. He steadied himself, grasping Sylvain’s left leg to balance his weight as he rolled his hips once, barely rising off of Sylvain’s length.

Predictably, Sylvain tried to pull Felix closer, but Felix settled his fingertips against Sylvain’s collarbone like a gentle warning, keeping him at bay. Like this, he could feel Sylvain in all the right places. He started to move rhythmically, slowly rolling his hips and never rising too far out of Sylvain’s lap.

Sylvain shut his eyes and let his head fall back again, biting his lower lip. His chest stuttered with a new gasp everytime Felix moved; he was trying his best to hold back, to keep himself from finishing so soon. Felix liked to see him struggle, liked feeling his hips twitch under him, liked feeling his fingers bruise into the flesh of Felix’s ass and hips. Sylvain was holding out for _him_, and something about that felt intensely rewarding.

The slide of Sylvain’s cock inside Felix started to get easier, his hole slick with precum as Sylvain panted, his legs quaking with the effort to keep himself from thrusting up into Felix until he was satisfied. Felix was getting close himself, Sylvain’s full length massaging his prostate with every wayward thrust. Not only that, Sylvain was pulling him closer, and Felix’s neglected erection was weeping at the tiny bit of friction provided by Sylvain’s abdomen. Felix’s training-worn thighs were begging him to end his teasing pace.

Hooking his arm around Sylvain’s neck, Felix dragged himself into a more upright position. Sylvain kissed him sloppily, with more tongue than lips, barely giving himself enough space to breathe. Felix punished him with a proper bounce on his cock, then swiveled one way, the other, squeezing Sylvain inside him. Sylvain resultant whine pitched higher than Felix had ever heard, but he was still holding back, his whole body trembling with the effort.

Felix grabbed a tuft of hair on top of Sylvain’s head, pulling it aside to whisper harshly in his ear, “Stop it. Stop trying to hold out.” Felix moved his hips in a circle, up and down, again and again. “I want you to cum.”

_Finally_, Sylvain let go. Rather, he grabbed on, pulling Felix against him like he wanted the two of them to melt together. He whimpered into the crook of Felix’s neck as he spilled inside him, searing hot. The sensation almost brought Felix to orgasm, but Sylvain was squeezing him so tightly that he couldn’t even move his arms to reach for his dick.

Sylvain took a while to come down, but Felix was patient, despite the knot of pleasure in his gut slowly twisting into one of pain the longer he went untouched. Sylvain was still stuffed inside him, but Felix could feel cum leaking out and dripping down his thighs. He squeezed his knees together around Sylvain’s hips, jerking forward, trying whatever he could to touch himself.

Sylvain raised his head like he was just waking up. He blinked slowly, but his hand still reached Felix’s cock before Felix could reach it himself. Just a little squeeze sent Felix keening, shivering and burying his hot face into Sylvain’s shoulder. He jerked his hips down, milking whatever he could out of Sylvain’s softening erection.

Overstimulated, Sylvain made a strained noise. “Here,” he said, lifting Felix up enough that his dick slid out. He replaced it with two of his fingers, dragging them up into Felix’s cum-soaked passage. He found Felix’s prostate like he had his insides memorized.

“Sylvain,” Felix choked out, bunching up Sylvain’s shirt in his fists. After suffering for minutes on the edge of cumming, the sudden resurgence of intensity was enough to hurt.

Sylvain seemed to understand. “I’ve got you,” he comforted, tilting his head against Felix’s.

Slowly, Sylvain started stroking Felix’s cock in time with soothing his fingers over that sweet spot inside him. Felix felt heat start to pulse through his body again, and in less than a minute, he was back on the edge of orgasm.

“You’re so good to me, Felix,” Sylvain murmured, and goosebumps rose on Felix’s skin. “You always are.”

Sylvain dragged his thumb back and forth over Felix’s slit, and Felix let out a muffled curse. He was close. “Can I see?” Sylvain asked softly. “Let me see your face. You make the prettiest face when you cum.”

Red hot and embarrassed, Felix could barely push himself off Sylvain before he came, a high-pitched moan ripping out of his chest and followed quickly by a sob, tears brought to his eyes by just how good he felt. He quivered in Sylvain’s grasp and painted his chest white; Sylvain didn’t stop stroking him until Felix quite literally collapsed. Feeling like he was floating away, Felix wrapped his arms around Sylvain’s shoulders like a vice, desperate for some stability.

The two of them sat like that for a while, in each others arms, until Felix finally became disgusted by the feeling of cum drying on his legs and against his back, where Sylvain had decided to settle his dirty hands. He used Sylvain’s shoulders to push himself up, feeling dizzy and exhausted. His knees were aching from staying bent for so long.

“Hi,” Sylvain said, blinking up at him. He brought a hand up, trying to touch Felix’s cheek, and Felix grabbed his wrist.

“Disgusting.”

Sylvain looked at his sticky fingers, then back to Felix. “It’s yours.”

“That doesn’t mean I want it on my face,” Felix grunted, tossing his hand away. “Ugh, we’re both covered in it. And look at the sheets!”

Sylvain didn’t seem disgusted or worried in the slightest. “We can just sleep in the other bed.”

“Not my point,” Felix replied. He slipped off of Sylvain, then off the bed and onto shaky legs. “Manuela will have a fit.”

Felix started gathering his clothes from the floor so he could go wash up, but Sylvain didn’t move for a while. He watched, smiling at nothing. He seemed much happier and calmer than Felix had seen him in a while.

“Are you coming to the bath or what?” Felix asked, stepping into one leg of his pants.

Sylvain sat up and shuffled to the edge of the bed. “Don’t you just want to run naked over there? You’ll soil your clothes.”

“Are you kidding?” Felix asked. It was the middle of the night, but that didn’t mean there weren’t guards still up and about. “You can’t even run.”

“I dunno, I can hop around _pretty_ fast.” Grinning, Sylvain swept the top sheet off his bed and caught Felix under his arm as he wrapped it around their shoulders. “C’mon!”

Maybe Felix was still a little lightheaded, because for some reason, he sighed and wrapped his arm around Sylvain’s waist. Laughing, Sylvain started toward the door. They did end up being pretty fast on three legs, and even though Felix was sure they flashed a few guards on their escapade through the monastery, he looked up and saw the smile on Sylvain’s face and decided it was worth it. Felix didn’t think it was lightheadedness. Maybe he was just in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while! hope you enjoyed this chapter. i'm shockingly still self-conscious abt writing smut so i got blocked on this for a bit. but i finally pushed through it this week! hoping to get back to a regular schedule, so the next chapter should be up in a week or two. i'm reinvigorated!
> 
> there will be at least two more chapters in this fic! if i don't post the next one in a couple weeks you're all free to bully me on twitter
> 
> thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CW: discussions of suicide/suicidal thoughts**
> 
> can we agree to ignore that post-timeskip Sylvain is canonically a mounted unit because i sure forgot that. pretend he is not for this chapter thanks

Sylvain got discharged the next morning. With conspicuously missing bedsheets and a shaky story from Ashe about a two-headed ghost he saw running through the courtyard the night before - well, Manuela put two and two together about as quickly as Felix assumed she would. She shoved crutches at Sylvain first thing in the morning and told him and Felix to get out, letting them know how _rude_ their behavior was when all she had done was be hospitable to them. Despite the lecture, Sylvain looked ecstatic to be allowed back to his normal daily activities.

“Your hair looks pretty like this,” Sylvain said, curling his fingers into the loose strands of hair touching Felix’s shoulders. He was only using one of his crutches as they headed for the dorms, Felix was carrying the other. “You should let it down more.”

Felix didn’t know how Sylvain could think his bedhead was anything but a mess. The consequence of sleeping while it was still wet meant it curled and tangled, and Felix’s hadn’t had the time to twist it into his usual updo before getting kicked out of the infirmary. Felix lifted his own hand to run it through the back of his hair.

“It gets in the way,” he said. “Maybe I should just cut it.”

It was a joke; Felix only wanted to see the terrified look it put on Sylvain’s face. “You can’t!” Sylvain insisted, almost tripping over his crutch as the two came upon the dormitory staircase. “It’s so…”

“I was joking,” Felix assured him, a small smile on his lips. “You’d have to think twice about courting me then, is that it?”

Frowning, Sylvain mumbled his protests, grumpily insisting he wasn’t _that_ shallow as he followed Felix to the second floor dorms. They went to Sylvain’s room to get dressed for the day - Felix kept most of his clothes in there, stuffed next to Sylvain’s in his dresser. He had barely stayed in his own room since their return to Garreg Mach.

Breakfast was busier than Felix expected. Everyone seemed to want Sylvain’s attention, from Ashe asking if Sylvain wanted to practice his archery more, to Dimitri requesting help strategizing over a map of Enbarr. Sylvain’s mood was obviously soaring to feel needed. Felix still worried about Sylvain pushing himself to do more than he was capable of.

Both of them ended up in the training room, and Felix tried to focus on his own exercises instead of obsessing over every unbalanced arrow Sylvain sent flying at the archery targets. If Dimitri had any sense, he wouldn’t let Sylvain get anywhere near a battlefield in his state, but Felix had little faith in the boar to begin with.

Byleth came to the training grounds a little later with a wooden contraption in her hands. Gilbert was following behind her as she approached Sylvain and Ashe, waving her hand to have them stall their practice. Felix lowered his sword and drifted closer to the group, wondering if the atrocity in Byleth’s arms was supposed to be Sylvain’s new prosthetic leg.

As Felix got closer, his guess was confirmed. Naively, he’d had something more...leg-shaped in mind when he imagined the prosthetic, but what Byleth held was more like a peg-leg. She seemed to have traded Hanneman’s craftsmanship out for Gilbert’s. Felix remembered Annette once saying that wood-carving was a hobby of her estranged father’s.

“This is just a prototype,” Byleth cautioned, though Sylvain had already sat to excitedly adjust his knotted right pant leg. Byleth wrapped her knuckles against the thin rod of wood connecting the socket of the prosthetic - where Sylvain’s leg would go - to the circular, wooden base. “We want to see if this wood can withstand your weight. Making the main support out of metal would be sturdier, but much heavier, so if we can avoid that…”

Ashe slipped up next to Felix quietly to get out of the group’s way. Byleth let Sylvain’s grabby hands take the prosthetic and fit it against his own leg. She bent over to help him wrap around and tighten the straps that would hold it to the remainder of his leg. It looked simply like an old belt stapled to the inside of the object’s wooden socket.

“Without the function of your knee joint, you’ll have to get used to a stiff-legged way of walking,” Gilbert explained, watching intently as Byleth helped Sylvain off the ground. “I sanded off the base of the leg to be more rounded, hoping it would emulate the roll of your feet when walking naturally.”

Sylvain nodded along to Gilbert’s reasoning, but it was clear he was just ready to try out the leg for himself. Byleth kept to his right side, holding his arm to keep him steady as he experimentally balanced his weight on the prosthetic. He teetered on the rounded foot of wood, and Felix stepped forward to catch his left arm midair, steadying him from both sides.

With help from Byleth and Felix, Sylvain was able to take a few steps across the training grounds. As Gilbert had said, his gait was awkward and stiff. He had only his hip joint to use to control the angle and movement of his leg, making his walking pattern look akin to that of a fat cat. Felix looked up to see sweat beading on Sylvain’s forehead.

“Does it hurt?” Felix asked quietly. Byleth looked up as well, curious to hear the answer.

Felix could tell Sylvain was about to lie, his lips trying to quirk up into a signature grin to absolve them of their doubts, but finally he hung his head with a frown. “Yeah. It’s...putting my whole weight on it...I guess I should wait until it’s less sensitive.”

“That’s okay,” Byleth reassured, a smile on her face. “At least we know now that we’re going in the right direction. The wood held up, and I think the rounded foot was a good idea. We can put some padding in the socket so it’s a little less harsh when your leg is better.”

They didn’t make Sylvain hobble back to where he was, letting him sit and take off the prototype immediately. He rubbed his sore stump, and Felix made him pull up his pant leg to make sure there was no fresh blood staining his bandages. Given the all clear, Sylvain tied off the loose fabric under his leg once again, and Ashe hurried over with his singular crutch to help him stand.

Gilbert was scratching his chin when Byleth returned to his side with the prosthetic. “I still want to try crafting something with a functional knee joint. It would serve you much better in the future,” he addressed Sylvain. “Though it might be hard to find the proper materials around the monastery.”

“Well, I probably won’t be in true walking shape for another week at least,” Sylvain replied, scratching his right thigh absentmindedly. “Just tell me when you have something else for me to test.”

Gilbert nodded in acknowledgement before turning to leave with Byleth. Ashe looked contemplative, and jerked back into reality before the two had reached the door. He ran after them, calling, “Oh, do you mind if I join you? I may have a few ideas…”

The tall doors shut before Felix could hear Byleth or Gilbert’s response. He looked up at Sylvain, leaning heavily on his crutch. His eyes were far away, and Felix thought his mind vacant before Sylvain spoke, keeping his gaze affixed where it was.

“I guess it was stupid of me to think the first one would be perfect,” he said clearly. “Or assume it would be just like normal…”

Felix crossed his arms and looked across the room at where he’d left his sword, leaning against a training dummy. “Yeah, it was,” he replied. “But it sounds like something you would do.”

An airy breath escaped Sylvain’s nose. “Are you calling me stupid?”

“I’m certainly not calling you smart.”

Sylvain snorted that time, his arm curling around Felix’s waist and pulling him into range of Sylvain’s mouth. “If I remember correctly, _I_ was the one who had the best grades, back in the academy,” he bragged, kissing the back of Felix’s neck. “Meanwhile, _you_ were barely passing anything that wasn’t related to your dearest sword.”

Felix swatted Sylvain’s head away from his shoulder, realizing he’d accidentally picked a battle he would never win. “Let’s go to lunch. I’m hungry.”

Before letting Felix go, Sylvain kissed him once more on the cheek. “Love you,” he murmured, and Felix predictably blushed. He supposed he’d made Sylvain feel better that easily.

Halfway through their lunch, Ingrid slid into a seat across from Felix and Sylvain. “I heard you tried out Gilbert’s prototype today,” she said, leaning forward on the table with her fist under her chin. “Mercedes is mad at you, by the way.”

“It’s barely been half an hour,” Sylvain whined. “How does everyone know about it already? I barely did anything.”

“She said at least ask her before trying it again,” Ingrid conveyed, leaning back off the table. “I can’t believe you were even able to withstand it. It must’ve hurt, right?”

Sylvain shrugged one shoulder. “I’m fine. That leg though...I don’t know how much help it would be. Felix and Byleth had to hold onto me the entire time.”

“You’d just have to practice more,” Felix interjected. “It’ll be easier when you’re not in pain, too.”

“Well, I mean…” Sylvain sighed and set his fork down on a half-empty plate. “It’s not going to do me much good on the battlefield. It may hold my weight, but one blow to that skinny piece of wood and it’d snap in half easily.”

With furrowed brows, Ingrid said, “You’re not seriously thinking of rejoining the fight, are you?”

“Why does everyone say that?” Sylvain pouted. “First Felix and now you. Do you expect me to just become a scholar and sit at a desk all day?”

“No…” Ingrid looked uncomfortable, shifting in her seat. “I just mean that it could take you months to relearn everything. I’m sure everyday life is a lot different for you already, and battle…”

Tension had settled around the group as Sylvain’s expression soured. He stared at his hands in his lap, shoulders slumping. Regret twinged in Felix’s chest. Ingrid was right, and had said what Felix had wanted Sylvain to understand for the past week, but Sylvain’s reaction made him feel like an asshole. Why did keeping Sylvain safe have to come at the expense of his optimism?

Suddenly, Ingrid exclaimed, “Oh!” Both Sylvain and Felix looked at her. “What if - what if you fought on horseback? You wouldn’t have to walk, and you could still use whatever weapon you wanted. It’d be just like normal.”

“Ingrid-” Felix started, ready to point out the possible flaws in her proposal.

“Goddess, why didn’t I think of that before?” Sylvain leaned forward excitedly, his eyes bright with hope. “That’s brilliant, Ingrid! I’ve already done cavalry training in the past as well; this will be perfect.”

With an excited “let’s go!” Sylvain jumped up and grabbed his crutch from the chair next to him. Ingrid gave Felix an apologetic smile as he stewed over his half-eaten dinner, conflicted. Sure, this seemed like a perfect solution, but what if Sylvain needed to dismount? What if something happened to his horse, and he became a sitting duck on the battlefield? This wasn’t going to fix everything.

The rest of the afternoon, Sylvain visited the stables with Ingrid. Felix came with them to observe, but that was all he did, sitting back against the cobble wall of the building. Riding a horse with one leg was harder than any of the three had expected, and Felix quietly celebrated the setback in his head. Sylvain was off balance, and the horse he rode was having difficulty understanding the signals he was giving it with only one foot. Ingrid tried her best to help, but it was a slow process.

Watching them, Felix became more and more frustrated, more and more anxious. All he saw this leading to was Sylvain’s death. He was convinced, without reason, that next time Sylvain wouldn’t be so lucky as to only use a limb. He watched Sylvain topple off his steed and into Ingrid’s arms for the seventh time that night. Next time, he’d be falling into the swords of their enemies.

“Hey. You ready?”

Felix blinked and saw Sylvain standing over him, hand extended. The sun was setting, and Ingrid was gone. How long had Felix zoned out imagining Sylvain’s blood on the battlefield? He couldn’t tell if the pit in his stomach was from hunger or nausea.

Felix reached for Sylvain’s hand and let himself be pulled up from the ground. No, it was definitely nausea, he decided. His head spun and he had to shut his eyes for a moment, touching his forehead and feeling sweat dampening his hairline. Sylvain looked at him curiously.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “You look kind of pa-”

“Why won’t you give up?”

It came out unexpectedly harsh. Felix felt out of control of his own tongue, even his whole body as he shook with unchecked emotion. Sylvain looked confused, worried - he could already tell something was deeply wrong. Felix may have been brash, but emotional outbreaks were rare. Yet here he was, on the verge of one.

“What do you mean?” Sylvain asked. He rolled Felix’s fingers around in his hand, a gesture meant for comfort, but Felix ripped his hand away like Sylvain’s touch burned him.

Fists balled at his sides, Felix opened his mouth and all his frustrations began pouring out. “You can’t do things like you used to. You won’t ever be able to again. And yet you still - you still keep _trying_ and it’s not _working_. It won’t. Why can’t you just _stop_?”

Sylvain looked hurt. “Why would I? Like I said-”

“Why would you?” Felix repeated shrilly. Sylvain should already know. “Do you know how much of a hindrance you would be on the battlefield? How every single one of us wouldn’t be able to focus on anything but _you_ and whether or not you were safe? Against the empire, one misstep - just _one_ \- will get you singled out and killed in an instant. We could march up to Enbarr at any minute now and you’d still be trying to figure out how to not fall off your fucking horse.”

Anger was a strange and uncommon emotion for Sylvain to wear. “You think I don’t feel like a hindrance already? Either sitting on my ass in the infirmary all day or asking other people to do this, help me with that - you have no _idea_ how helpless I’ve felt this past week.” He looked ready to grab Felix, squeeze his shoulder until the skin broke, and Felix shied away despite himself. “When people offer me solutions, I take them. I take them because it keeps me from sitting in the dark all day wondering if it would have been better if I’d died that day. I don’t care how many times I fall off the horse. I’m not giving up.”

“You-” Felix’s throat was already shutting in on him. “You’re going to end up dead anyway if you keep up this...this _nonsense_.” Felix tried desperately to keep his voice from wavering. He looked anywhere but Sylvain’s face. Where could he run? “You act like this is you trying to get better, but it’s really you looking for a way to end it, isn’t it? Go out in a blaze of glory, get your name in the history books?”

Felix looked then, to take in the shock on Sylvain’s face. Had he hit the nail on the head? “If you - if you want to throw your life away so badly-” Felix felt like he was suffocating. He couldn’t finish his sentence, and he couldn’t face Sylvain any longer. He ran.

_Be my guest. Do it._ Felix had wanted to spit those words at him, let Sylvain see just how much Felix despised him for thinking he could leave on his own. All week he’d been pretending to be fine, and cheerful in front of their friends, even in front of Felix himself. Felix knew all along that it was an act, but this deep of one? This deep?

Felix touched his face and felt the tears there, beginning to rapidly swipe at them as his running pace slowed. _Pathetic. Weak,_ he told himself. This always happened when he was angry, or frustrated. No one would take him seriously when he was crying like a child. Not even Sylvain.

The library was where Felix found the solace he was searching for. He clambered up to the second floor and sat in a corner with his back against two walls of books. He didn’t read, he didn’t think. He sat there, knees up to his chest, and breathed.

Eventually Felix calmed down, as did the rubbed-raw skin of his cheeks. A few people had come to sit and read in the library after dinner, but no one had yet ventured up to the second floor, leaving Felix with his thoughts. He wondered what Sylvain had done after watching Felix run off.

Usually, Felix never conceded in an argument. He hated being wrong, because he hated apologizing. Yet he couldn’t help but feel his words to Sylvain had been too harsh. He should’ve spoken to him about his doubts days ago, instead of letting them build and fester in his head until they all spilled out of him, uncontrolled. Though, Felix had never been known for his tact in conversations.

He was still angry. He still didn’t want Sylvain on the battlefield. But Felix acknowledged how harsh telling him to give up was. Felix didn’t necessarily want him to give up learning his new body, but he knew that’s what it sounded like to Sylvain. All he had wanted was for Sylvain to give up acting like nothing had changed. He would never get better unless he acknowledged that he couldn’t go back, and he would never get better if his idea of learning was to throw himself on the Empire’s spears.

With stiff limbs, Felix stood and took a moment to further compose himself before heading downstairs. He wondered if Sylvain had gone to meet with Dimitri after dinner like he’d promised this morning. Felix wouldn’t seek him out. He headed to the dormitory.

Without even considering sleeping in his own room, Felix opened the door to Sylvain’s dorm. It was empty, so Felix stepped inside and went about his nightly routine. As he searched for a shirt to wear, he pulled out an old sweater Sylvain had handed down to him. It was too big on him and hung off his shoulder, but Felix slipped it on anyway and let his hair down. If he was asleep before Sylvain returned, Felix figured wearing that would serve as a peace offering until the morning.

Felix thought a couple hours passed before Sylvain returned, but he never fell asleep. He heard Sylvain open the door, pausing for a few painstaking seconds before stepping fully inside. Felix feigned sleep, facing the wall next to him and listening to Sylvain’s uneven footsteps as he got ready for bed.

When Sylvain slid into bed, it was slow and careful. He must’ve really believed Felix was asleep. He touched Felix’s arm with an achingly gentle hand, and each kiss he left on Felix’s exposed shoulder was so soft, like he thought Felix was made of glass. Felix only noticed how Sylvain’s lips were trembling when something wet fell on the back of his neck.

Heart heavy, Felix turned onto his back, and Sylvain stiffened with surprise. Tears were rolling from his eyelashes and falling onto Felix’s cheeks, but he gave Felix a pitiful smile before he couldn’t hold up the facade anymore. He fell into Felix’s arms and let Felix hold him as he sobbed, truly, for the first time, into his shoulder.

Minutes passed as Sylvain cried, but time meant nothing to Felix anymore. All he knew was Sylvain’s trembling weight against his chest, wetting the shoulder of his sweater, and the fluffiness of his hair as Felix’s fingers brushed through it. Hearing Sylvain cry freely was cathartic to Felix. Sylvain was finally releasing all of his pent up feelings.

Sylvain kissed him with tears still on his face, and Felix let him have that comfort. When they had fought in the past, this was their usual apology to each other, then everything was forgiven. They had never had an argument of this proportion though, and the things they’d said to each other still weighed on Felix’s conscience. A good cry, a kiss, make-up sex - that wasn’t going to fix it this time. Sylvain knew that too.

“I’m sorry,” they both tried to say at the same time, lips barely inches away from each other.

Sylvain pushed away slowly, propping himself up on one elbow. Felix helped to wipe at his tear-stained face. It was sort of unsettling to see Sylvain so disheveled, even if Felix knew it was good for him. Sylvain wiped his sleeve under his nose and sighed heavily.

“Sylvain,” Felix whispered, reaching up just to touch Sylvain’s face again. “You know you can be honest with me. Always.”

“I know,” Sylvain replied, pressing a smile into the palm of Felix’s hand. “Sometimes I’m just not honest with myself.”

It took a few more minutes before Sylvain was ready to say more. He shifted to lay next to Felix, facing the ceiling and squeezing Felix’s hand in his between their bodies. Felix looked up with him, eyes tracing over the cracks and flaws of the stone ceiling. Sylvain’s arm was hot against his, even through the fabric of both their shirts.

“Until you mentioned it I didn’t realize...every time I thought about going into battle, I thought about dying,” Sylvain said. “Everyone thinks of that, I guess, how things can go wrong. But it didn’t scare me anymore. I thought if I went in and fought my hardest, even while disabled like this...well, then that would be enough. That would make me content.”

Sylvain was squeezing Felix’s hand a little tighter, but his voice was still even. “But that’s not true at all. I would have so many regrets.” He turned his head to look at Felix, and Felix met his gaze. “And I’d be breaking our promise. Remember?”

Felix smiled. “Of course I do.”

With a smile of his own, Sylvain looked back up at the ceiling. “I just haven’t been thinking straight since I lost the leg. It makes me feel weak, and useless...I hate that. So much.” He shook his head against the pillow behind it, then lifted his right leg in the air. “But dealing with this shit is nothing as long as you’re here. And Ingrid, and Dimitri, and everyone else. But mostly you.”

A little laugh escaped Felix’s throat, and Sylvain fixed him with a soft smile. There were still things that Felix needed to say, but the air in the room already felt much lighter. He slipped his hand out of Sylvain’s grasp so he could use it to sit up and look Sylvain in the eye.

“All I’ve been able to think about this week - through all your insistence with training and getting back to the battlefield - is how you would die if I let you go,” Felix confided. “That’s why I lashed out earlier. I was panicking because you were actually becoming close to a capable knight again. I didn’t mean for you to literally give up. I just want you to be realistic.”

“I understand that now,” Sylvain assured him. “I really think I can get the hang of the horse thing. I want to be there in the next battle, and every one after that. When we take Enbarr, I want to be there, watching. Because if you got hurt, or killed, and I wasn’t there…”

“I won’t,” Felix promised.

“Still,” Sylvain insisted, setting his hand on top of Felix’s. “You get it, don’t you? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I have to be there, just to watch over you.”

“Just to watch?” Felix echoed.

A little smile appeared on Sylvain’s lips. He looked sheepish. “I know I’m not ready to fight like I used to, or at all. If all I can do is backline support, then that’s enough for me.”

Silence stretched between them, and Sylvain’s nervous smile didn’t disappear. He seemed to be waiting for Felix’s approval. Being honest, the thought of going to battle _without_ Sylvain was nerve-wracking. If he was truthful about staying back and not trying to be a hero, then Felix couldn’t turn away the idea.

“Promise me again,” Felix proposed, leaning over Sylvain to capture his gaze again. “Promise me that we’ll stick together until we both die.”

Sylvain beamed up at him. “I promise. Until we’re both grey-haired old men.”

Felix rewarded him with a short kiss. “Right. How else will you marry me?”

Sylvain’s eyes widened so much that Felix thought they might fall out of their sockets. “Are you - are you serious? Are you saying yes to me?”

“Calm down,” Felix soothed, pushing Sylvain’s shoulders back down on the bed. He looked like he was ready to run out the door. “After the war. After the emperor is dead...ask me again.”

Throwing his head back with a groan, Sylvain complained, “You’re such a tease, Felix. That’s so mean, you know. I’ve been asking you for like five years…”

_Like you don’t know my answer_, Felix thought to himself. His face was hot with blush, but he didn’t mind it. “Just consider it a little incentive to stay alive.”

“You sure know how to motivate a man,” Sylvain swooned, pulling Felix down to his chest. “Trust me, there’s nothing and no one who I would rather live for.”

Humming with contentment, Felix settled on Sylvain’s chest. “I know,” he answered. His cheeks were starting to hurt from how much he’d been smiling. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter unfolded in a lot of ways i wasn't expecting, so a lot more happened than i originally planned for. i feel bad putting both of them through all this...
> 
> thanks for your continued support :) the next chapter will be the last!


	6. Chapter 6

In one week, the Kingdom marched on the Empire. They fought their way to the capital without rest for days. Felix never thought he would grow tired of battle, nor the thrill of swinging his sword, testing his strength, but the last stretch of the war was finally wearing on him. He’d already told Sylvain that he wasn’t going to pick up another sword for a month after the war was over.

During the week before their assault, Sylvain had continued training on horseback under Ingrid and Felix’s watchful eye. He’d explained to Ashe why he wouldn’t be needing more archery tutelage, and in the next two days, Ashe had brought another prototype prosthetic to the stables. Having seen the root of Sylvain’s struggle, Ashe and Gilbert had devised a new prosthetic foot - one made of a metal clasp to hook around the stirrups on his horse’s saddle. The improvement in Sylvain’s riding was immediate, like a miracle, and since he wasn’t putting any pressure on his healing right leg, Mercedes happily allowed it.

Even after their heart-to-heart in bed, and his growth in training, Sylvain’s bad moments were still inevitable. He got lost in his head, felt hopeless, but instead of bottling up his depression like he had been, he came to Felix. He vented his frustration, cried if he needed to, and Felix listened attentively. He didn’t expect Sylvain to get better or be happier overnight. The trauma of losing his leg wouldn’t leave him for a long time, but Felix planned to be there until it did, and afterward.

After a week of stressful preparations, their battle to Enbarr began. Sylvain stayed on the backlines like promised, strapped to his horse with weapons on his back that never saw blood. He carted medicine to their healers and supplies to their troops, and his brow was always drenched in sweat when Felix returned to him after a fight. His hands shook when Felix held them. The adrenaline from being so close to battle, yet not _in_ it, had no place to escape his body.

Reaching Enbarr was no short of terrifying, even to Felix. The capital was fortified, filled with soldiers and enemies stronger than they had ever faced before. Even though they had planned for resistance of this magnitude, doubt trickled into Felix’s mind. Would they all make it out alive?

“Felix!”

Behind him, Annette screeched, and Felix kicked the body of an axe-wielder off his sword to face his companion. Her next spell was only strong enough to batter the lancer advancing against her into taking a few steps back, but it was enough space for Felix to put himself between them. Felix lunged forward to drive his blade into the enemy’s stomach, killing him but getting a lance in his shoulder for the effort.

Annette doused him in healing magic as soon as he’d pulled the weapon out of his wound. It had punctured deep, and while Annette’s efforts were enough to stop the bleeding, the fingers of his left arm were tingling against the hilt of his sword. His shoulder felt stiff, but his adrenaline was keeping most of the pain at bay.

“I’m sorry,” Annette apologized, bordering on tears. “I didn’t realize how close-”

“I’m fine,” Felix insisted, rolling his shoulder, clenching his fist - he hoped his fingers wouldn’t go numb. Their area was clear of enemies now, but both them and their battalions had suffered casualties. “We need to move toward the throne room and back up Dimitri.”

Clenching her fists, Annette nodded with determination. It was just the two of them together - their forces had to be spread thin inside the emperor’s castle. Dimitri and Byleth had gone straight for the throne room while the rest of the Blue Lions split into pairs, clearing the way for them. The battle was lasting too long, and Felix was starting to worry about reinforcements, nevermind if Dimitri could actually bring himself to kill his step-sister. Felix had expected to see her head already on the end of his lance.

Felix and Annette ran back into the main hall, where there was a clear path between the throne and the room’s entrance. Felix couldn’t help but look back toward the door, where Sylvain was supposed to be staying with his own battalion of mounted soldiers. Ashe had stayed there with him, ready to pick off targets from afar with his bow.

Reinforcements had arrived. Sylvain’s lance was splattered with blood, high in the air as he commanded his battalion toward a group of oncoming bowmen. Ashe was there too, doing his best to string up three arrows at a time to shoot into enemy lines. Felix couldn’t help but think they’d be overwhelmed, and he began to stray from Annette, back toward his partner.

A battle cry melded with the sound of Annette charging up a new spell, and Felix turned around once more to see her blowing away two swordsmen charging at her. Prepared this time, the magnitude of her gale shredded their armor and left them bleeding out on the floor. More reinforcements were flooding around the throne room, and Felix had no choice but to focus all his energy on keeping himself alive.

The stairs to the throne were in reach, but Felix couldn’t see past them for any signs of Dimitri or Byleth. He looked back again for Sylvain in a moment of respite, and their eyes met. Ingrid had landed next to him and dismounted her pegasus, clearing enemies expertly even on foot. Sylvain’s gaze begged Felix to trust him. Felix did.

Insistently, Annette grabbed Felix’s wrist and pulled him up the stairs, anxious to face Edelgard on the throne. A set of dividing doors had been closed in front of them, and Annette blew them open with another spell before Felix could even try to open them normally. Felix brandished his sword defensively, expecting resistance. Instead, the throne room was quiet.

Edelgard’s body crumpled at his feet, Dimitri turned with a somber expression. A dagger was embedded in his shoulder, but that appeared to be his only injury. Byleth stopped him from walking off without pulling the blade out. Felix stared at the emperor’s corpse between their feet. It was over. Finally over.

Of course, Felix rushed back down the stairs before anything could even be said. The emperor may have been dead, but her followers weren’t going to disappear just because of that. He rushed blindly back toward Sylvain’s position, eager to join in protecting him, but there was no need. When he got there, Ingrid was shaking blood of her boots, and Ashe was gathering his arrows. Sylvain peered down at Felix from his horse.

“We won,” Felix said, breathless.

Sylvain looked up, toward the throne. Felix turned around, spotting Dimitri and Byleth walking down the stairs. Annette had grouped up with Mercedes and Dedue, holding Mercedes’s hands and shaking them like an excited child. Ashe and Ingrid drifted toward Felix as the realization started to set in.

“We won,” Sylvain echoed, softly. It didn’t feel real.

There was still much to do. The Adrestian Empire was devastatingly weakened without their ruler, but that didn’t mean they would all go quietly as the Kingdom overturned their country. The Blue Lions stayed in Enbarr for three more days, quelling small rebellions of Edelgard’s soldiers that had escaped the final battle. Dimitri didn’t want to massacre Adrestia, and he had no interest in conquering it, either. He wanted them to rebuild, without Edelgard’s radical ideologies.

Faerghus had its own reconstruction to worry about, though. Leaving Enbarr in the care of the Alliance, the Blue Lions started their return trek to Garreg Mach. Felix felt the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders once they were out of the city and onto the wilderness. He closed his eyes and let his horse guide itself, following his friends on the path toward the monastery. He looked forward to sleeping in a bed again.

Garreg Mach came into view once the group crested the last hill between themselves and their temporary home. The sun was starting to set, but they would be back before it became too late. Felix didn’t know what he’d do the next day. He could return to his territory, but Dimitri would probably call him to Fhirdiad to discuss future plans. What would Sylvain do?

Felix looked to his left, where Sylvain had been steadily riding next to him. Now he was a few paces ahead, leaning over to talk to Mercedes quietly. Felix watched them, but he couldn’t read their lips. Mercedes smiled and reached into the pouch on her hip, pressing something into Sylvain’s hand.

When Sylvain steered his horse over to Felix again, he was met with a questioning look. His left fist was still closed around something as he reached over to touch Felix’s elbow, smiling. “Stop here for a second.”

Felix pulled on his horse’s reins, slowing and stopping as Sylvain did the same, even dismounting and stumbling to the ground between them. Felix made a noise of displeasure - he was still supposed to keep off his right leg as much as possible, even with the prosthetic. Felix slid off his horse with a furrow in his brow.

Before Felix could scold him, Sylvain brandished something between his thumb and pointer finger. He grabbed Felix’s left hand, holding him close as Felix stared at the golden ring in front of his face. An orange jewel was embedded in the front, surrounded by smaller ones of the same color. They all glinted in the light of the setting sun as Felix just...stared.

“I know it’s not much your style,” Sylvain finally said, when Felix wouldn’t break the silence. “It’s a family heirloom. My dad told me to give it to the girl I wanted to marry, and, well-”

“Ask me properly.”

Sylvain stared at him blankly, his mouth still half-open. He was squeezing Felix’s ring finger through his glove, probably without realizing. Felix met his eyes, and Sylvain finally blinked, wet his lips, and said, “Felix, will you marry me?”

Hearing it brought a sudden rush of blood under Felix’s skin. So many times, Sylvain had asked him, but never before had it been like this. Never had it felt so genuine and heartfelt. Felix felt _excited_ about it. He wanted to grab Sylvain and kiss him until their lips were blue. The best he could do in the moment was rip his glove off and present his bare left hand between them.

“Yes?” Sylvain asked nervously. His hands were shaking as much as Felix’s as they slipped the ring onto his finger.

Felix nodded furiously. He managed a breathless “yes” before Sylvain’s smile blinded him. They kissed, and Sylvain threaded his fingers between Felix’s, the metal of his ring already warm from Sylvain’s touch.

“Wait,” Felix murmured, patting his pockets. He remembered, he had something to give Sylvain too.

As a precautionary measure, Felix had brought with him his own family heirloom. A ring his mother had worn until she died, bequeathed to Felix by tradition. He brought it with him in case he died at Enbarr, so Sylvain could find it and keep it. He hadn’t imagined Sylvain proposing to him before they even got back home, but really, he should have. The scenery, the sunset - it was just the kind of romantic setting Sylvain loved.

Felix held the ring out in front of him. The band was silver, adorned with a delicate purple stone. It was simple and near girly, but Felix knew Sylvain didn’t care what it looked like. That was made evident by how hastily he started removing his left gauntlet, letting it fall to the ground with his glove following.

It fit perfectly, because Felix had made sure of that months ago. Truthfully, there was never any doubt in his mind that he’d give this ring to Sylvain, one way or another. He had never imagined spending his life with anyone else. Even since they were kids, making that promise. No one was more important to him.

Sylvain looked the happiest Felix had ever seen him. When they kissed again they were both crying, and Sylvain tried to kiss the tears off Felix’s cheeks even though his own face was wet. It felt so surreal for Felix to be looking forward to _marriage_, but it wasn’t all that bad of a feeling.

A little cheer startled Felix out of Sylvain’s embrace, and he finally noticed that their entire group had stopped to witness the engagement. Annette had her arms high in the air, balancing on one stirrup of her horse’s saddle. She looked at Felix and beamed, clapping her hands together with unbridled glee.

“We won!” she shouted. “It’s over!”

Her excitement was infectious, and soon everyone was celebrating with cheers and hugs while Felix and Sylvain mounted their horses again. They hadn’t paused to relish in victory after taking Enbarr, and with Annette’s sudden enthusiasm, it was like a cloud of tension settled over the group finally dissipated. Five years of fighting was finally over.

Sylvain stared at his ring the entire way back to the monastery. He never stopped smiling, never stopped leaning over to tell Felix how happy he was and how much he loved him. All of the emotion was overwhelming, but Felix let it wash over him, warm him. He told Sylvain he loved him. That he was happy, too. He looked at the golden ring on his finger. It finally felt real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! i really enjoyed writing this fic, so i hope you enjoyed the ending! your support means a lot <33
> 
> [@stellar_elegy](https://twitter.com/stellar_elegy) on twitter if you want to keep up with what i'm writing next ^^


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